Marvel King In Black Mga Nobela at Kwento

I force myself to scan the faces around the table, memorising the monsters I am trapped with. There is Gage, the Red King. He sits perfectly still, his eyes tracking every twitch of my fingers. You cannot lie to him. He spots a fabrication from a mile away. I tried it once, and he nearly tore my throat out for the insult. Beside him is Kaycen, the Black King. He is a weapon in a tailored suit. His line is famous for combat, moving so fast they react to a challenger's strike before the blow is even thrown. Then there is Isac, the Blue King. He is lounging back, a sickening smirk playing on his lips. The rumours say his kind can hold their breath underwater for hours, but right now, he just lo

Eli whispered under his breath. One of the strangers laughed softly, as if amused. “So fast,” he said. “As expected of the Alpha King.” Eli’s head snapped toward Kieran at that word again. Alpha King. That title didn’t make sense to him, but the way those men said it—like it meant something powerful, something feared—made his stomach tighten. Kieran didn’t respond. His posture had changed completely. Gone was the calm, unreadable expression from before. Now there was something sharper.

And being a werewolf who had never shifted, there was only so much his body could do on its own. A knock on the bathroom door startled Evren. “Open the door,” the King’s voice came through the door, and Evren frowned. “I know you’re in pain, Omega. And you’re probably too sore to move. Open the door and let me in.” Evren had the mind to tell the king to fuck off. He wanted to swear at the king and call him every colourful name under the moon but… That was the Lycan King, the ruthless Lycan who had ordered the execution of a man before Evren’s very own eyes, and Evren knew he was probably hanging by a thread.

A suffocating, terrifying aura crashed down on my shoulders, so heavy it physically forced my head to bow. Alpha King Dragon Blackblood stepped into the light. He was a nightmare carved out of muscle and bespoke Italian tailoring. Standing well over six-and-a-half feet tall, he moved with the lethal, unhurried grace of an apex predator. His face was ruggedly handsome, marked by a harsh jawline and dark, slightly greying hair, but it was his eyes that froze the blood in my veins. They were a violent, swirling amber, practically glowing with an unstable, feral madness.

Hope had truly returned to Blackthorn. Killian stood at the center of the clearing, surrounded by his high commanders. Dressed in midnight-black ceremonial robes embroidered with silver wolves cascading down the trim, he looked every bit the formidable Alpha King. Yet, his sharp gaze completely ignored the conversations around him, searching the edges of the forest for only one specific person.

The more she clung to it, the deeper she sank into confusion. “Rhian,” Damon finally broke the silence, his voice low, almost pained. “You deserve to know everything. Not just about your father. Not just about Villareal. About me.” Her heart skipped. She didn’t answer, but she didn’t walk away either. Damon drew a sharp breath, his eyes glinting in the dim streetlight. “I wasn’t just your husband, Rhian. I wasn’t just a businessman. I was—no, I am—a king.” His lips curled bitterly. “A king of the underworld. The one people whisper about, the one they fear but never dare to face. Every bad deed I’ve committed, I’ve paid back in blood. I built my empire with power and fear. And your father… yo

Zezi peeled her eyes open, watching the man in front of her have all his veins popped out before he fell to the floor in agony. The groan she heard all around was that of pain. The thud was sudden and of multiple bodies. As she watched them curl unnaturally and reach for the ground before them, with their claws, fighting as their black eyeballs rolled into hiding, leaving white in it's wake, she knew she had seen that before. Her gaze shot up to the only one she knew could be responsible for this kind of thing and there he was, the King. Valerick. Black zig zag lines lined up his face, the frown etched into his features was unmistakable, the glare obvious. He was mad, big mad.

Kael said tightly. “Who?” Aria asked, though part of her already knew. Kael’s jaw tightened. “The Alpha King.” Before she could respond, the lead SUV braked hard. Out stepped a towering figure draped in regal black leather, trimmed with silver fangs. His face was ageless, too handsome, too cruel. His scent reeked of old magic and dominance. “Alpha Kael Blackthorn,” the man spoke, his voice a blade across the pack grounds. “The Alpha King summons you. And your Luna.”

Black said. "Okay my king" Mack answered and Dylan disconnected the mind link. Black went towards the dead bodies and spoke up," Send their bodies to their king with a massage that if he again tries to enter my kingdom, I will give him the worst death" "Okay, king" Jackson replied. "Good. Do as I say. I am going to check on my kingdom" Black said and started running towards south. "It is time to finish the game Dylan. He dared to look at my Luna. He came to his death" Black whispered angrily.

Then, a man stepped out into the dying light. He was a mountain of muscle, dressed in pitch-black combat leathers. But it was his eyes that stopped my heart from beating. They weren't red like the guards’, and they were nothing like Kaelen’s or like anything i’ve ever seen before. They were a lethal, molten, glowing gold. The King. The Lycan King himself!! He didn't look at Kaelen who was now stationed far away. He didn't look at the terrified, silent pack behind.